


awaken

by athina39 (setosdarkness)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setosdarkness/pseuds/athina39
Summary: You are a fledgling, at seventeen.You want to be many things. You understand that you can only be one of them, of the twenty-six types of creatures that exist in this world. But as a fledgling, you still have stars in your eyes, eager to explore the world beyond your fingertips.You start as a human, as all beings do.
Kudos: 10





	awaken

**Author's Note:**

> relatively old piece of writing, posting here for archiving purposes :)♥

Bustling as always, the Trade Center is filled with creatures from all walks of life.

There are those who proudly pin their mercenary badges on their chests. There are those who keep their ranks hidden in the underside of their collars or inside the flaps of their purses. There are those who show off for potential customers or possible rivals. There are those who sashay into the reception area with their wings spread out, seemingly without care if they smacked against another visitor. There are those who dress in nondescript cloaks and disguise their presence as much as possible.

And then there is you.

You are a fledgling, at seventeen.

You want to be an Asshaka, of the fiery hawks of the sky that hold fireballs inside their mouths. You want to be a Blessforth, of the winged fae of the forests that command the love and devotion of nature, that only have to flutter their eyelashes to have entire forests move to their bidding. You want to be a Crysfire, of the formless creatures that only exist in the shadows and can only be seen by a magical eye. You even want to be a _Dios_.

You want to be many things. You understand that you can only be one of them, of the twenty-six types of creatures that exist in this world. But as a fledgling, you still have stars in your eyes, eager to explore the world beyond your fingertips.

You start as a human, as all beings do. Awakening to the second form will happen after your eighteenth birthday. Some start the process early, applying for early missions that will expose one’s magical core to the world’s magic. You’ve heard that the world’s Ether becomes visible, once you Awaken. You’ve heard that they spin in the air, like sheer spidersilk threads that your sisters like to weave through their armor.

You are excited to find your identity, your place in the world.

You insisted, against your parents’ wishes and your siblings’ worries, that you were adult enough to get an assignment from the Trade Center. You reasoned that you found the current homework assigned from school to be really easy. You brought up the fact that some of your more precocious classmates already got assignments and have already started awakening their magical core. You argued that you were but months away from being eighteen, after all.

You insisted that you could do it alone.

With only a small knapsack that contained your identification and other belongings, you stand in the line. The queue is probably two-hundred-creatures long. You don’t catch a glimpse of fellow fledglings like you. You see high ceilings. You see gleaming black marble floors. You see walls lined with imposing oil portraits of the Lord of this Trade Center. You see confident and powerful creatures, with secure stances, with assured auras.

You tell yourself that you are not afraid.

But you are second-guessing yourself, thinking about going back to the outskirts where your home is. You are not yet eighteen anyway and there should be no hurry for you to Awaken. You are jostled forward by the boisterous belly-deep laugh of the bear-like Yampurh behind you. You sputter excuses and apologies to the creature you bump to.

You find yourself facing a creature with wild, lion-like mane for a hair, all gold waves. Golden eyes, and golden-brown skin that spoke of getting kissed by the sun every day. You don’t immediately manage to categorize their type of creature, but you do manage a sincere, “S-Sorry for bumping to you.”

“It’s fine.” One hand reaches out to steady your shoulder, as the golden creature replies with a small twist to his lips. “You look nervous. First time here?”

There is no reason to lie, so “It is,” you admit. “It’s that obvious?”

“You look young,” is the reply. The creature’s golden eyes are focused somewhere beyond you. “If you want, you can stick close to me.”

“How much would it cost?” You’ve heard of Guides, who specialize in helping fledglings navigate through the ins-and-outs of Trade Centers and their assignments. “I only have 5 gold coins with me.”

You actually have ten, but you don’t want to pay more than what is strictly necessary.

The golden creature’s gaze shifts to you. A moment, before, “I’m not an official Guide, so there’s no need for payment.” You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off with a, “Consider it my good will.”

You consider the man in front of you. You see that he’s wearing simple clothes. Sleeveless tank top and pants that reach his calves. He looks like he’s about to go to a vacation, rather than get dangerous missions. Compared to the stiff and imposing surroundings, composed of geometrical lines in black marble, high ceilings that don’t open up to the two summertime suns up in the sky, he exudes a refreshing aura.

The two of you exchange pleasantries as the queue moves forward slowly.

“Do you have an idea of the creature you want to be?”

You shake your head. “I have my hopes and dreams, but I’d be happy to Awaken to whichever type.”

“Come now,” the creature who introduced himself as ‘Laidob the Lightskeer’ teases you. “Young kids always have a type they prefer most.”

It is true. There is no day that lunch-break at school isn’t filled by talks about the twenty-six types of creatures that they could become. There are always debates as to what is the second-most powerful type. You always get questions about your family, because Asshakas are always in the limelight, for their flight capabilities and the varying colors and temperatures of the fireballs that they could exhale. Asshakas are also known for the more romantic notion of finding a partner, as they court and stay with one partner their entire life.

“An Asshaka, like both my mothers and grandfathers and older sisters.” You say with pride. But then, you pitch your voice lower, “I’d be really happy to be a Dios too.”

You didn’t pitch your voice low enough, apparently, because your words draw the attention of other creatures in the queue, inciting a flurry of conversations.

“A _Dios_! Good one, fledgling!”

“Now, now, at that age, anyone can dream…”

“Must be a very young fledgling… nobody knows what kind of creatures we all evolve to at that age…”

“Woo! Wanting to be a Dios at this day and age!”

“Those haven’t been seen in thousands of years, have they?”

“Pssh, that’s what’s wrong with you Yampurhs! Spending so much time as animorphs… ever heard of news?”

“Think I’m scared of your metal weapon, Red Lightskeer? Your kind can’t survive without that sword of yours!”

You instinctively hide behind Laidob, as an altercation appears to be brewing between the bear-like Yampurh behind you and another Lightskeer two spots up front. You are surprised when nobody ends up drawing their weapons. You continue listening to the snippets of conversation going on around you.

“Nobody dares to draw weapons here,” Laidob placates you. “This Trade Center is highly regulated. Only a Dios can do whatever they want here.” A pause. “A Dios, or a favored creature.”

A favored creature. Simply put, whoever is being courted by the Lord of this Trade Center. You feel your face flush. You are but seventeen, things such as favors and courting are too advanced for you.

“I’ve heard that the highest-ranked Dios just finished a legendary-level mission last week…”

“What kind of things are you hearing with that ears of yours, Elvion?”

“I’m friends with a Crysfire who sneaked in around the mission area… She told me that an entire city was destroyed!”

“That’s expected of the Diablo, isn’t it?”

“Is that why the queue today is this long?”

You make a questioning noise. Laidob is quick to help shuffle you forward as the line moves again.

“The person in-charge of the Trade Center posted a new mission earlier today,” Laidob explains. “He’s put up a bounty on the Diablo’s head.”

You look around you. Now that it’s been pointed out, you recognize the manic energy inside the Trade Center. Everyone looks eager to fight. Eager to claim the monetary reward and the fame that goes along with it. The Diablo is the most legendary amongst all creatures—a Dios that has made a name for himself because of how strong he is, even amongst other Dios. The cream of the crop, in all aspects. You think you will probably faint if you have to spend more than two seconds with that powerful creature of destruction.

“It’d be great,” you say haltingly, “if I could catch one glimpse of him.”

The conversations around you continue.

“They say the Diablo is a nine-tailed beast with the body of the dragon and the face of a dog!”

“Fuuuu, I heard that the Diablo has six wings made up on the spines of the creatures he crushed!”

“Isn’t it that the person in-charge of the Trade Center is courting the Diablo? Hey, don’t look at me like that, that’s what I heard!”

“Rumor from some War-wraiths up in the north is that one would go insane with one glimpse of the Diablo…”

“So it’s that ugly?”

“Or it could be more beautiful than Louvrailles and Vampyrs put together!”

“Now you’re talking!”

Laidob frowns. “Why would you want to see him?”

“Someone so powerful… isn’t it interesting?” You are proud of your lineage and you are worried that you have big shoes to fill. You are, like all fledglings, enchanted by the idea of being at the top of the world.

“Most would be scared,” Laidob points out.

“I am scared.” There is no use in trying to hide it. “But I’m also interested!”

Laidob’s frown transform to a small smile. “You know, kid, you remind me of someone.”

You blink. “Really?”

“An annoying person,” Laidob says with the same smile. “Thankfully, you’re not annoying like him.”

As the youngest in your household, your sisters always tease you, but you’ve never been called an ‘annoyance’. “…I’m not sure if I should be glad to hear that.”

“There’s nobody as annoying as him,” Laidob clarifies. “But you two have the same habit of liking things because of them being interesting. Just like a kid.”

You huff. “I’m not a kid, I’m a fledgling!”

Teasing, “Spoken like a true kid.”

The queue advances.

You’re nearly at the reception desk, maybe twenty creatures away. You notice the other Lightskeer up front. By her hip, you see a longsword in its red sheath. You transfer your gaze to Laidob. “Laidob? What kind of metal weapon do you have?”

There’s a sudden, tense silence.

You open your mouth to apologize, if it’s a sore topic. But Laidob beats you to it. “Ah, it’s a secret.”

“A secret?” It makes sense, doesn’t it? Lightskeers are creatures who are bonded to their metal weapons. Maybe Laidob’s is a small dagger, the kind that gets pulled open to spring a surprise to the opponent. “I’m sorry for asking, then.”

“It’s okay,” quickly, comes the reply. “Maybe someday, I’ll show it to you.”

“Really?” You didn’t think you’d see each other again after today, but the prospect of having a friend, especially someone who seems very knowledgeable, is a nice one. “We should exchange contact information!”

Laidob looks at you. A moment, two. “Sure,” he says with the same light smile from earlier.

“—hey, I don’t like this.”

A split-second after that voice cuts in, and you feel the entire building shake. You’re shoved backwards. No protest even as you land on your rump, nearly crushing the end of your knapsack. Because your voice is caught in your throat. Your eyes widen when you see the floor that you’ve been occupying until mere seconds ago. You were lucky to not have been cracked open like a fragile egg.

You don’t recognize the newcomer’s voice, but there’s no way you wouldn’t recognize the person’s face.

The Lord of the Trade Center.

He’s even more imposing in person, compared to the vibrant oil paintings lining up the walls. His glare is even colder in close quarters.

“Yo,” Laidob lets out a light greeting, even waving hello. “That is some entrance.”

“Did it impress you?” The Lord of the Trade Center—going by the moniker ‘Lord’—tilts his head as he crosses both his arms over his chest. He’s wearing the full regalia, double-breasted heavily-decorated military coat, thick boots laced up until mid-calf, a long metal staff with a blood-red gem at its end. “You’ve been quite difficult to impress recently.”

You can’t find your voice. You want to ask Laidob as to how he’s acquainted with the Lord. But you can’t. You stare, wide-eyed, at your surroundings. The ceilings, the walls, they remain in place. The queue is maintained, but with all creatures pressed flat on the ground instead, in an odd tableaux. There’s an oppressive aura weighing down on your shoulders. It’s part of the magic of the Trade Center itself. Nobody can oppose the Lord while they’re inside the building and its jurisdiction. Nobody, except for their favorite, and the creature stronger than the Lord.

Laidob is standing in front of you.

“You’re abusing your power,” Laidob says in light reprimand.

“You’re using yours,” the Lord replies with the petulance of a child. It’s at great odds with his stiff regalia and his cold-looking face. “Aren’t you being unfair too, dear Diablo?”

Laidob sighs. “Revealing my identity like this…”

The Lord grins, victorious. “I’m simply helping out these customers of mine.”

Laidob—or rather, Diablo, _the_ Diablo—sighs again and turns to you. “I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

You still are unable to find your voice.

Diablo leans closer so he can pat your head. The gesture reminds you of your parents, your teachers. Gentle, but firm. “If you still wish to learn more about me, I’ll see you as an apprentice once you’ve Awakened.” Diablo even sounds like your Maman, when she’s telling you that you shouldn’t push yourself too much. “Don’t force yourself to Awaken too quickly, you hear me?”

You don’t get to reply.

“No fair, no fair! I wanted to work with you first!” The Lord stomps his feet all over the floor, cracking it from the sheer force of his magic. “I hate you!”

“If you say so,” Diablo says with an easy shrug. He doesn’t look like he believes the Lord’s words. “And to think I came here to play with you.”

You remember what he said earlier, about an ‘annoying person’ that acted like a kid. It’s a strange feeling, the realization that there could still be childish beings, even if they’ve already Awakened, even if they’re already at the level of the Lord. It’s very peculiar, but also comforting, because the Diablo that everyone has considered to be out of reach is actually very approachable.

But then, you are reminded that these two are still more powerful than everyone else combined. The two creatures disappear with a zapping sound, the fabric of space-time torn apart in the middle of the Trade Center. Space-time magic can only be used by the most powerful of creatures, who’ve gone through centuries of dedicated training. And they used it, just like that.

The oppressive aura lifts as soon as they’ve disappeared.

You remain there, staring wide-eyed, not entirely sure you’ve understood what happened.

Eventually, you return home to your mothers. Your sisters are still hard-at-work up in the skies, while your brothers are out in the forests. Your grandfather is off to his work at the bottom of the underwater Oceania cliff.

“Welcome home, dear,” your Maman says, pressing a kiss to your forehead as soon as you’ve entered the house. Her lips are orange with gentle affection, soft puffs of flames warming your skin. Mader places a hand over your head, before ruffling your hair. You’re surrounded by them and you feel safe.

Brown flames edged with pink—the colors of curiosity and concern—waft out as Mader asks, “How was your trip?”

You still feel the confusion and excitement from earlier. “It was eye-opening,” you say. It’s an understatement. “I still have a long way to go! I promise to take my studies seriously!”

Maman raises an eyebrow. “My, you’ve become more mature, in just a few hours!”

“It’s how the young are.” Mader laughs, messing up your hair even more. “There’s no hurry with Awakening. Take your time to learn everything about the world around us.”

“We’ll always love you, no matter what you become,” Maman adds.

You nod and hug them.

Like this, you feel like you can become anything.


End file.
